


a way of finding

by Milee_Cosgrove



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Post-Reaper War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milee_Cosgrove/pseuds/Milee_Cosgrove
Summary: Things lost and found after the war.





	a way of finding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musicalheart168](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalheart168/gifts).



The thing about sharing a home with Shepard is that it’s relatively normal. They share household duties—although Kaidan cooks more often, she tries to help; their elbows bump when he reaches across the stove, and when they clean up afterward, she washes and he dries. She pointed out they could afford a dishwasher or even a VI to do household chores for them, but he likes this. There’s something comforting in the routine, in the normalcy of it.

They fought for this future and he doesn’t think he’ll ever take it for granted.

They lost things, of course. The place where Kaidan’s father should have stood is an empty gap in their wedding photos; Shepard cannot reach for things on shelves too high, and when they’re in bed, Kaidan takes care not to rest any of his weight on her left hip. There are other things—some they talk about, others they don’t. Moments when he awakens in a cold sweat, breathing too hard because he hears the thrum of reaper-calls in his dreams. Shapard lingers over photos of fallen comrades, and when Kaidan says her name, it is a few moments before she can bring herself to answer.

But they still have this—an apartment that is theirs and jobs and lives. And it is more than Kaidan ever dared hope for.

It is one night, when Shepard is handing him a freshly cleaned plate, that she says, “I want a dog.”

He takes the plate, runs a damp towel around its edges. Shepard has never been abashed about her desires: she wants guns and armor mods, she wants diplomats to stop calling her at two in the morning, she wants her friends safe, and she wants _him._

“You have a hamster,” he points out.

“I do,” she replies, “but for all of their charms, hamsters don’t fetch. Or drool on you. Or force you to carry little poo-bags on walks.”

“You’re really selling this dog idea.”

She throws him a grin—and it’s the one he loves. Unrestrained and brilliant. “You can’t tell me you don’t want one.”

It’s true; he grew up with a mutt who would lean against his leg and beg ear-scratches from anyone who stood still long enough. The idea of a pet isn’t an unwelcome one. “What kind?”

She considers. “Something big. That won’t shed too much—I hate vacuuming. Friendly, but would guard the house. If we have kids, I want a breed that would protect them.” Another moment of thought. “Maybe a breed that would frighten off intruders.”

“You just described a varren.”

“We could do worse.”

“I am not taking a varren on walks around the academy.”

“Your students would love it.”

“My students have terrible taste,” he says, and he wraps an arm around her waist. “And so do you.”

“I’ve got pretty good taste. I picked you, didn’t I?” she says, smiling.

He shakes his head, laughing a little as he draws her close. She smells of dish soap and something sweet, and he knows he will never take this for granted. Not her arms around him, nor the solid weight of her as she rises to tiptoe to kiss him, nor the flutter in his chest when she pulls him toward their bedroom.

This is what he fought for—and it’s more than enough.

* * *

 

The varren shows up on their doorstep three weeks later—with a bow around its neck and a note from Jack detailing how to house-train it.


End file.
